


All I Want Just Falls Away

by Amikotsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Bad Jokes, Best Friends, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Just Friends, KakaObi Week 2020, M/M, No Romance, No Underage Sex, Secret Crush, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: Kakashi falls right out of the sky and nearly drowns in the Naka River. As his memories return to him, he decides to take a chance and set everything straight. He's too late to save his dad, so he does the next best thing. Kakashi goes to see Obito.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Obito
Kudos: 98
Collections: KakaObi Week 2020





	All I Want Just Falls Away

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fix-it
> 
> There are no underage romantic relationships between the characters. They're friends.

There was nothing quite like the undertow. The impact stunned him, even though the river welcomed him, so he took shaky breaths and filled himself with cold, dark water. And suddenly he knew exactly what it felt like to drown. He fought against the urge, against the water threatening to reach every nook and cranny of his insides. He saw himself as another bloated corpse carried away on the current. He saw someone stumbling across his remains. He noticed his arms and legs, fighting for the chance to choke on something more than the water, for the sweet taste of oxygen. The moment he surfaced, he coughed and sputtered, expelling the water. He choked and choked until the air replaced the water, until he could finally breathe again. Something had gone wrong, but the moments before the impact were gone. He had wisps of memories slipping through damp fingers. He swam with the current until he could drag himself onto the shore, and he quickly became boneless, a mess of a man violently shivering, trying to find warmth in the cool night air. He'd survived once, and he refused to let hypothermia take him. A cloak washed ashore behind him, the white fabric soaked, and the writing on the back slightly ruined by tears in the fabric. That had been him, at one time; he remembered fighting to lose the heavy cloak, the fabric weighing him down to the riverbed. He grabbed the cloak and shook it a few times, ridding it of as much water as possible, then he draped it over a shoulder and pushed himself up off the grass. His legs buckled, but he forced himself up again. He needed a fire to keep warm. He needed shelter. He needed to remember. 

Forty minutes later, he sat down by his small fire and extended his hands toward the flames. The heat stopped his violent shivers and slowly began to dry the cloak. He was small, smaller than he first thought -- something told him he was smaller than he should have been, but he had no proof to support such a claim. He sat by the fire, constantly feeding it small sticks, contemplating what he would do and where he would go. He still had the taste of that deep, dark water on his tongue. He knew his name and he knew where he lived -- he knew that much -- so he sat and waited for the white noise in his mind to turn to a steady hum. And everything became clear again, memories returning in a rush that left his head aching and his stomach churning. He had to leave the warm fire to throw up in the bushes, and he stayed there too long. One hand pressed against the trunk of a tree, trying to steady himself, he looked around the area for any clues to his whereabouts. He still didn't remember the how or the why, but he set those thoughts aside in favor of focusing on survival. Nothing mattered but food, water, and shelter, nothing mattered but the dancing flames of the fire.

People never really had second chances, not when there was a continuous connection between the first try and the next try, so he didn't think of his predicament as a second chance so much as a fluke. He had a mind full of memories and endless determination, but he had no idea what to do. He was young, but he didn't know his exact age. Had he already lost Obito? Had he already lost Minato and Kushina? Had he already lost his dad? The questions became an endless barrage with no real answers. He curled up next to the fire and held his cloak in his arms, the only connection he had, the only proof he had. That cloak was his future. He didn't know where to begin, but sometimes the best place to start was the beginning. 

When the sky became a painting of purple, pink, and yellow, all pastels welcoming him to a new day, the first day, he threw dirt onto his fire to extinguish what little remained, then he covered his trail. The cloak needed to go, but he couldn't bear to let it go, not when it represented his whole life, not when it became the only thing connecting him to a world most likely gone. He didn't want to forget what it felt like to be that version of himself, the version forced through numerous hardships, the version cursed with loss, having held an intimate relationship with loneliness. He held tightly to the cloak in the way that he held tightly to the memories. He succumbed to weakness in the way that he had succumbed to the current. Dark water no longer filled his lungs, but he still felt the feel of the undertow. 

Konoha was different. The village rose like a symbol of hardship, and he questioned why he bothered to return. Even if it wasn't really a second chance but some loop connected to his other life, he felt some connection to the village. He'd been nothing but loyal, even when it wasn't in his best interests. He removed his cloak and kept it over his forearm, the writing on the back hidden in there folds. He still remembered his registration number, but the chunin on gate duty didn't bother him. He blended right in, and no one stopped to question why he looked like hell. He went to his old house first, but the place had tall weeds all around it, bushes and trees overgrown. He knew then that he was too late to save his father, but he covered his own disappointment, and he kept moving. He broke into his own apartment through his bedroom window. He crawled over the desk and stepped down onto the hardwood floor. He had his team photo, which he'd accidentally knocked over during his entry, so he placed it back on his desk. His apartment still had cardboard boxes around. After his father had died, he'd moved into an apartment, but it had taken him almost a decade before he felt well enough to unpack, before he had the strength to face the bits and pieces of his life with his father.

He pulled the chair away from the desk and dropped down onto the seat. His head still hurt and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for three days, but he had to keep moving, both for himself and for the people he once thought lost for good. He stayed in the chair for another fifteen minutes before he finally forced himself from the chair. He raided his closet for clothes, since his were way too big, and he hung up the cloak in his closet, tucking it away in the back. He hadn't decided whether to change everything or hope for a ripple effect. He wanted nothing more than to save Obito, because saving Obito meant saving Rin and Minato and Kushina. And if he admitted it to himself, he'd always had feelings for Obito. Feelings that evolved from wanting to kick his ass to wanting to kiss him. He had an opportunity to make a better life for the people around him, and that also made his life better. He was selfish, he knew, and he'd had enough years to know that it was alright to be selfish sometimes, that no one would fault him for chasing someone, or something, he wanted. He spent well over half of his life dedicated to the village, and he wanted nothing more than to avoid wearing the cloak again. He'd never wanted it in the first place, but it had been dropped in his lap. He'd loved when Naruto finally took over. He'd run off almost immediately to enjoy his retirement, and then, and then something had happened, and he found himself falling into the river and nearly drowning.

He spent too long in the shower, scrubbing and scrubbing like he did after he'd lost Rin. Sometimes he still saw the blood on his hands. He emerged from the shower with a healthy glow and dressed in clothes that actually fit him, then he went to find something to eat, which consisted of chicken, vegetables, and miso soup. He felt as if he hadn't eaten in days, and maybe that was the truth. He washed the dirty dishes and stacked them on the drying board, then he strapped on his weapons pouch and his father's sabre and went out to greet the afternoon sun. He outsmarted a boisterous Gai and made his way into the Uchiha district to check in on Obito. The boy had saved up enough to rent his own apartment at around eleven, so Kakashi assumed the boy was there. He'd been there several times, but he still got turned around. Forty years had passed and his memories were a little hazy on the specifics. 

Obito actually lived in a decent apartment building, but it wasn't a surprise, since everything about the Uchiha district was well kept. The apartment building had three floors and held six apartments. Obito lived on the second floor, apartment three, so Kakashi entered the building and headed for the stairs. The place smelled like lemons, so someone had been cleaning. He didn't know what to say, where to begin, but his fist met the door for three quick knocks, then he waited. Stomach in knots, he looked down at his sandals, at his pants, at his shirt, and thought of all the things he should say, rather than all the things he could say. The door opened and Obito's bright grin dimmed, quickly turning to a frown, and Kakashi deserved it. 

"What the hell do you want?"

"I think we should talk."

"Anything you want to say to me, you can say right here."

"I'm sorry for being a jerk to you. I'm sorry about all of the mean things I said to you. You didn't deserve any of it. I've been going through a lot, and it's no excuse, but that's all," Kakashi said, shrugging his shoulders. Obito stared at him for so long that he eventually turned to leave; Obito grabbed his arm and stopped him. 

"Do you really mean it? Will you stop being such a bastard?" Obito looked vulnerable, but Kakashi still saw the suspicion in Obito's dark eyes. Both eyes. Kannabi hadn't happened, and what had happened to Kakashi once would never happen to him again.

"I mean it." Obito tugged him into the apartment and closed the door behind them, so Kakashi stayed in the genkan until Obito silently pointed to his sandals. Kakashi slowly removed them, then followed Obito into the apartment. "Your apartment is nice," Kakashi said, clawing at his insides to force the conversation. 

"It's not bad. I can, um, sometimes hear the neighbors in the building next door arguing or, uh, other things, which is probably why the rent is cheap and no one wanted this place."

"Hm. You can try privacy seals? Sensei or Kushina might be able to help." Obito grabbed a spatula from a draining board by the sink and threw it at Kakashi, so Kakashi caught it and gave the boy a blank look. "I'm not an impostor, so don't throw that glass at me. Put it down, Obito. Obito, put it down," Kakashi ordered. Of course Obito didn't listen. 

Kakashi substituted himself with a pillow from the couch and the glass bounced off the pillow and hit the floor, where it broke into several jagged pieces. Obito had jumped away from the glass, but the broken pieces had him trapped in a corner by the fridge. Obito hopped up onto the counter and sat there, eyes moving from the broken glass to Kakashi. They didn't say anything until Kakashi finally asked where the broom and dustpan were located. Kakashi swept up the pieces, careful not to step on any, but one stabbed him in the bottom of the foot and he lifted his leg to examine the damage. Obito hopped down and went closer to see Kakashi's left foot. A nice piece of glass stuck out of the bleeding wound. Kakashi reached to dig it out, but Obito swatted his hand aside. 

"Let me get the first-aid kit Rin gave me as a present. Your hands are dirty and it'll get infected and you'll lose your foot and die."

"You've been talking to Rin too much."

"I can never talk to her too much! She's, she's," Obito struggled, eyes practically hearts. Kakashi snapped his fingers in front of Obito's face and the boy pouted at him. "I'm going," he muttered, heading off toward the bathroom.

Kakashi hobbled over to the couch and sat down. Just as he prepared to pull the glass out, Obito returned and scolded him. "Are you going to be my cute nurse?" Kakashi smiled at him, and Obito's face immediately turned bright red. His pale skin only brought the color out even more.

"I'm not your damn nurse."

"Ah, but you are cute."

Obito pulled out a pair of tweezers and plucked the piece of glass from Kakashi's foot, then sat the jagged piece aside. Rin had shown him how to provide first aid, so he disinfected the wound, squinted at the injury, and deemed it small enough not to need stitches. He wrapped gauze around Kakashi's foot and held it in place with medical tape. He grinned at his work and looked up to find Kakashi staring at him. He'd seen the look before, and he knew very well what that look meant, so he distracted himself by fiddling with his fingers. Kakashi reached out to touch Obito's face, fingers tracing over the smooth skin on the right side of Obito's face. Obito opened and closed his mouth several times, and Kakashi knew he didn't know what to say. Kakashi didn't even know what to say. He was happy, very happy, even though he was eleven again, even though Obito still had an unhealthy crush on Rin. Nothing bad had happened to them, nothing would ever happen to them. Obito jabbed Kakashi's side and Kakashi sighed, the moment completely ruined. 

"I already told you I'm Kakashi."

"You're acting weird!"

"I care about you."

"Stop saying weird things! You're coming off like you're flirting with me," Obito half yelled, clearly flustered and confused. Kakashi brushed his fingers over Obito's face and the boy blushed again. "You're doing it again! It's really confusing!"

"I am flirting with you. You're just really terrible at this," Kakashi said, patting Obito's cheek before he finally moved his hand. Obito covered his face with his hands and groaned, so Kakashi patted his back. "Did I break you?"

"I hate you." Obito moved his hands and glowered, so Kakashi smiled at him. Obito kept the expression, so Kakashi shrugged. 

"Mhm. You know love and hate only have a slim line between them." Kakashi was trying and it wasn't working. Obito was still just as unhappy, if possible, even more. Kakashi smiled though, because Obito seemed to enjoy his smiles. They were disarming, and Kakashi knew that. He'd used smiles for years.

"Next thing I know, you'll start using cheesy pickup lines."

"If you were words on a page, you'd be fine print."

"Oh my God. What is wrong with you?"

He filled his lungs with air and happiness and embarrassment, all of it mixing together into something he never thought he'd experience again. He was drowning again, and he wanted to keep drowning for the rest of his life. Kakashi's silence gave Obito the strength to carry the weight of his own embarrassment. His face lost its red hue, and he dissolved into fidgeting again. He couldn't look Kakashi in the eye anymore, and Kakashi wondered if he'd gone too far. His cheeky teasing had made Obito so uncomfortable, and he'd been far too amused to stop. He'd wanted a new beginning and he'd botched it with his lack of understanding. Kakashi rubbed the back of his head and avoided looking at Obito. 

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable," Kakashi apologized, feeling insecure himself. Obito made a show of clearing his throat, as if all the flirting had been choking him. Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Say something," he impatiently requested. 

"So you were mean to me because you liked me? That's kind of stupid."

"I was mean to you because I didn't process by dad's death very well and I took it out on everyone around me. I like you, so here I am."

"'I like you, so here I am'? That's not a very good confession," Obito frowned, clearly waiting for something else. 

Kakashi looked up toward the ceiling for strength, then he reached out and dragged Obito into a hug. Obito flailed his arms and tried to pull back, but Kakashi only tightened the hold. They hugged until Kakashi finally had enough -- he still preferred physical boundaries -- then they sat there on the couch, Obito picking at a loose thread at the bottom hem of his plain t-shirt. Kakashi knew he could care about Obito around the world and back, but he kept a rational head, as usual. There would always be some kind of distance. Kakashi had lived a whole life and Obito was just a stupid eleven-year-old boy. The fact that he was eleven again made no difference in the scheme of things. Obito looked over at him and then quickly looked away. Kakashi watched as Obito felt around blindly for his hand, so he gave in and took Obito's hand. 

"I still love Rin, you know. This doesn't change anything."

"I'm much older, so it would be disgusting if we did anything."

"But you're younger than I am."

"Sure."

Kakashi squeezed Obito's hand. He had everything he needed to make the world a better place. He had time. He had friends. He had a stupid boy rattling on about a future with Rin. He drowned in all the possibilities made possible with peace.


End file.
